In The Spring
by croeuf
Summary: Short One-Shot. She's lonely when he leaves for his periods in the Capitol. He calls her though; he always calls her. But the thing is, when you're separated like that, it gets hard to know when one another's hurting. She just never knew that he hated himself this much...


I was flipping through my writing blog on tumblr, and I found this from a prompt request I did.

Enjoy.

-Em

* * *

She sits on the floor, her back flush with the cool wall while the cord from the phone coils tight around her finger. Light reflected off the moon pools through her kitchen window, lighting a small square on the floor by her bare feet. She pushes her toes onto the line of light and dark and smiles as she hears him breathe on the other line.

It's one of those lulls in conversation they have sometimes; where no words are needed. She misses his breath in her ear.

He's been in the Capitol for three weeks, and only now he'd been able to sneak a phone call to her, to wish her goodnight.

It does nothing to quench the part of her that feels like something vital is missing when he's away for too long.

"What did you do today?" He asks after a moment.

"The same old, I suppose," she responds quietly, "You know."

"I know," he responds, "but I want to hear it anyway. I want to feel like I was there with you. Can you tell me what you did today?"

She smiles, "I helped Mags plant flowers. She said they will pop up in the Spring. Then we went to her house to bake some bread. We made too much, though, so I had to take some home with me."

She pulls her knees into her chest and curls her toes in. The wire from the phone brushes against her arm as she tilts her head up to look at the ceiling.

"So you had a good day?" He asks, and his voice sounds funny all of the sudden. Suddenly urgent. "You weren't too lonely?"

"No," she responds even though it's a lie. In reality, she was still just as lonely, even with Mags company, but she didn't want to tell him because it would upset him.

He's quiet, and something feels wrong about it. There's a pregnant change in the atmosphere. She listens to him breathe, unsure of what to say until, finally, he speaks.

"I hate leaving you alone." He suddenly sounds exhausted and she bites her lip, "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, Finnick. You can't help it-"

"I can't!" He interrupts so loud into the phone that she flinches and pulls it from her ear for a moment, "I can't stop it, I can't keep you safe, I can't do _anything_! I hate this! I'm weak; a failure, a stupid failure!"

"Finnick, she whispers, suddenly uneasy, "Don't say that. Don't say those things."

"But it's horrible, knowing he has this hold over me. That you're constantly in danger." His voice quivers, "If I mess up even once, he'll take you. And if something were to happen to you, Annie, I swear to God I would never be able to live with myself. It'd be all my fault."

"Finnick-"

"I'm so sorry for putting you through this. For involving you in my mess; for putting you in danger. I'm so selfish. I hate myself. So much."

"Finnick!" She shrieks. Her face is wet, not realizing she's been crying. Her throat clogs with a lump and her tongue is dry. "Finnick." She repeats, softer this time, her voice cracking.

"I'm so sorry," he's crying, too; she can tell. It's in the throaty tone of his voice.

It's quiet again on the line, but she can hear his shaky breaths as he breathes through his weeping. She must sound the same, the tears dripping onto her knees.

"I love you," she whispers into the phone. Nothing but music and the rustle of paper returns what she thought was an open and honest gesture. "Did you hear me?" She pauses. "I said I love you."

"I love you, too," He returns after a moment and she's so relieved to hear a response, that she repeats her declaration over and over again.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Over and over and over, until her tongue is numb and his weeping is gone, his breathing more even. "Please don't hate yourself. Please don't. Please."

Please, please, please.

You're beautiful. You're kind. You're perfect.

Please don't hate yourself.

"You should never have fallen in love with me."

_No, Finnick._

"I'm so sorry that you did."

_No, Finnick, you saved me._

"I'm so, so, sorry…"

_ You're my rock._

"Stop!" She screams, and it burns her throat on the way out, but she doesn't stop screaming, "You don't get to say that! _You don't get to say those things!_"

"But-"

The screaming stops but now she's in hysterics, "Please!"

"Annie…"

"Please!"

She bites her hand, clenching her eyes shut, trying to drown out herself. Trying to keep herself from jumping off the cliff in her mind. She's losing herself. She's losing herself. She's gonna fall. It's gonna get dark.

"…Annie?" He sounds hoarse, but gentle, "Please don't cry, Annie."

"I don't like it when you put yourself down. Because you're so beautiful, Finnick."

Her voice is thick with tears because she's supposed to be the one who hates herself, not Finnick.

Never Finnick.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart." He pleads, and that only makes her cry harder, "I'm sorry."

"They're purple."

"Huh?"

"The flowers I planted today. They're going to be purple." She explains, desperate to change the subject, to keep herself from spilling over, "They're coming up in the Spring."

She already said that, but he won't care.

"I can't wait to see them."

That last statement fills her with the relief she didn't know she was looking for, her bones turning to jelly.

"Me too."


End file.
